Death of a Hero
by amberartemis16
Summary: Harry has had enough. He is done with this cruel world, leaving just a note. How will his "friends" and the oblivious public respond to his last words? Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death and abuse. Fourth year summer AU.
1. The Note

Caution: Mentions suicide, abuse, death

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"The Boy-Who-Lived is Dead"

I may have failed Divination but I can predict that headline. Anyway, this is me, writing my note. That's what people do right? They write a note?

I think that before I'm gone, I should clarify a few things. Many people think they know the Boy-Who-LIved. They are wrong. My name is Harry Potter. I didn't know that until primary school. I live with my Aunt and Uncle. At the place where I reside (never a home), I've never been called Harry. I grew up thinking my name was either Boy or Freak until I was 7, when my magic-hating muggle relatives were forced to send me to school. My first memory is being shoved into the cubboard under the stairs, which served as my bedroom, because I accidentally burnt the bacon. I was 5.

Over the years, my situation didn't get better. Along with neglect and starvation/malnourishment, physical beatings were added to punishments. I often had to stay away from school to hide the broken bones and black eyes. My magic had worked over time in my youth trying to heal me. Unfortunately, my Uncle took my rapid healing as a liberty to never need to hold back. Just another thing added to my Freakishness.

Receiving my Hogwarts letter was the best thing that had happened in my life. I had a name for the strange power that happened around me. That was the first time I had ever heard of magic, but if I had known what would await for me in this new world, I would have slammed the door on Hagrid's face when he came to pick me up.

Imagine my surprise when I went to Gringotts and found out how much my parents had left me in my Trust Vault. So much for being a freeloading waste of space as my Aunt used to say. And that was even before I knew of my titles of the House Potter, Black, and Peverell, of which I have found out about just this week.

I was so excited going to Hogwarts, where, for once, I wouldn't have to cook and clean like a house elf for my whale and giraffe relatives. Imagine again the disappointment I felt when I figured out every single person I met thought they knew my inner most secrets and feelings, just because I was famous for what my MOTHER did to protect me as a child. On top of that, every single year at school I had something that very well could have ended my life, all due to the mistakes or ignorance of those supposed to protect and guide me.

But enough of that. Now, you know a little bit more of the true Harry Potter, not the infamous BWL that alternated between a Earth-bound God or the vilest scum that crawled up from the pits of Tartarus.

In light of this , my next actions should not be so surprising. As I am writing this, I am sitting next to the bloody, mangled remains of my first friend, my beloved owl Hedwig. My Uncle killed her for being to loud after spending two weeks locked in her cage.

I literally have nothing more to go on. Some might say to avenge my mother and father against Voldemort, who is in fact back. In response to that, I say "Why? Why would I fight for a corrupt society which has given me nothing but pain and suffering? Why would I fight for revenge when I can see my parents right now?"

In case you haven't gotten it yet (and I'll spell it out because I know logic and common sense are low in the Wizarding World), this is my goodbye. For those who care about Harry, just Harry, I'm sorry. For everyone else, the least you could do for me, even post-mortem, is have a trial for one Lord Sirius Black. If you were to check the hall of Records, you wouldn't be able to find any paperwork for one. It's the least I can do for my Godfather, who could have been able to prevent all this tragedy by simply raising me properly and with even a small bit of love; more than I have ever gotten in this life.

Padfoot, wherever you are, I don't blame you at all. I blame those who threw you away, and those that could have saved you, but didn't. I blame Minister Bagnold and Barty Crouch for denying you your right to justice. I blame the Wizarding populous, for preferring to ignore the truth, or selling it to the highest bidder. But most of all, I blame Albus Dumbledore, the Great Manipulator, and my Magical Guardian. I am honestly shocked that he still has his magic due to the wrongs he has done to me. Ignoring my parents will, where they clearly state that Sirius was NOT the Secret-Keeper, but Pettigrew was. Placing me with abusive muggles, which should never even been a possibility, instead of McGonagall, Bones or even Snape, and then never even checking on me. Stealing from my Vaults and paying off Granger and most of the Weasley clan to befriend and spy on me. Not informing me of Wizarding etiquette or my duties as a Family Head.

Just know, this is ALL YOUR FAULT. You have lost your hero because of your blindness to all of your problems. When the Ministry falls or magic deserts you, know that YOUR corrupt society, inbreeding and discrimination have brought you your doom. When you want to come crawling to me to deal with Voldemort, Screw You. I'm DEAD, you bastards!

To Hell with all of you.

Goodbye.

-Harry James Potter

Lord Potter, Black, Peverell and Gryffindor

The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Serve-The-Selfish-And-Then-Die-Alone-And-Unloved

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AN: Hello! This is my first ever story. WOO! Anyway, when I feel like it, I'll be adding chapters showing the reactions of characters reading this note, but updates will be sporadic at best. Please, no nastiness in comments, it never does any good for anyone. P.S. There are quite a few references to other media in this. See if you can find them all!

P.P.S. I wrote this after reading a LOT of other fanfics with a lot of similar ideas (heir to a lot of families, Golden trio splitting up, Dursley abuse) in it, so I'm sorry if something seems familiar. It wasn't on purpose! Shoot me a note if you feel slighted or something.


	2. The Public

A.N. I forgot it last time so here's my disclaimer. _I do not own Harry Potter in anyway, the characters and settings are all J.K. Rowlings. However, I do believe in claiming one's own work, so the plot and ideas in this story are mine. I worked hard on this and deserve some credit._

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It was a sunny, bright morning. The calm before the calamity. Shopkeepers in Diagon were setting up their shops as usual, when suddenly owls started flocking the alley. Some of the older shoppers remembered something similar occurring during the first war when a Daily Prophet was send to every magical person to spread important news, like major battles or when You-Know-Who was defeated. The alley-goers hoped this news would be more of the latter rather than the former. But it was not meant to be.

That peaceful morning atmosphere was shattered when piercing wails echoed off the stone walls. At that moment, every citizen of Magical United Kingdom was receiving a copy of the DP with Harry Potter's suicide note on the cover. Following the cover story were articles on the Auror's reports on the crime scene (the blood, oh _Merlin_, so much blood), the possibility of Line Theft (something that hadn't occurred since the Malfoys, _bad faith_, had to flee France), the status of Sirius Black and the legitimacy of his arrest (who are the bad guys if _this_ is "justice"?) and the apparent guilt of one Albus Dumbledore (that man has been allowed around our kids! What else has he done?). And no one could argue against the former Boy-Who-Lived's claims as he had added a picture-pensieve containing his memories of the crimes to his last words. A picture-pensieve was a new invention by a clever muggleborn which combined the properties of a pensive to a wizarding photo, allowing one to absorb short bursts of memory contained by tapping each picture with one's wand. There, in full-blown color, was the proof of Potter's claims.

Citizens began to take up arms against Dumbledore and Fudge, one for allowing and actually committing multiple crimes against a _child_, and the other for creating a smear campaign against said innocent, traumatized teen, who eventually broke under the pressure of being alone and unloved.

All over England, people began to mourn. The news was like a slap in the face, a wake up call for those who had become complacent in their roles in society, those who had let instances of similar concerns slip by due to their laziness. With Potter's memories, Amelia Bones declared martial law over the Ministry and began sending out Aurors and Hit Wizards to capture the Death Eaters seen in his memories of the graveyard, none of whom could claim _imperious_ this time, and to patrol the streets and watch for criminal retaliation.

An emergency Wizengamot meeting, sans Dumbledore, was called to survey the evidence provided for their Chief Warlock and Minister of Magic. Determined to do a full trial by the books, they began the month-long process of looking into two of their own for their suspected crimes. Interim Minister Bones made Sirius Black's trial a priority to be solved as well. Several prominent figures, such as Lucius Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge, were called in for questioning about suspicious behavior and their anti-muggle-and-muggleborn sentiments they had been recorded saying.

Of course, for all their posturing, nothing really changed. The sheep were still sheep, moaning about what happened and what they could have done, instead of getting up to fix the ongoing problems. It would take a little more than one letter from a suicidal celebrity for an entire community to change, but this was a good start.

Several Owls also found their way to a very small amount of people, bearing the last letters of a very special boy. The reaction to these letters and the articles in the paper would cause a ripple effect, which would eventually spread to inspire events which would directly effect the future of the human race. (Or, at least Magical Britain). While not necessarily the power of love, no one can deny that emotions are powerful things.

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A.N. Hello! After about a month, I'm back. I've got several things planned for this fic, but continually need to build up the motivation to actually _do_ something about it. So far, I'm planning on writing the reactions of several characters (Dumbledore, Weasleys, Neville, Sirius + Remus, Hermione) Is there anyone else you're _dying_ to hear from? Also, Tom is going down, but I can't seem to think of a way how. I don't want Harry involved, but with the prophesy it's a little complicated. Maybe I should have no Horcruxes? What do you think?

P.S. The "clever muggleborn" is not Hermione. My headcanon is that Harry met a whole bunch of interesting people during his stay at the Leaky Cauldron before third year. I imagine he started talking to someone about their new invention and that Harry got a sample.

P.P.S. In this story, the only person I'm planning on "bashing" is really Dumbledore. You'll have to wait and see what I plan for the others.


	3. The Trio

Caution: Mentions Death, Suicide, Guilt and Grief

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Ron, Ginny and Hermione were lounging about the Burrow one morning while Molly was puttering about in the kitchen. The two redheads were contemplating the silence of their rickety house. With their older brothers out of school and out of the house, and the twins off in a lab they rented that they were suddenly able to afford, the two youngest Weasleys were alone in their empty house. Compared to their childhood where they couldn't walk into another room without seeing someone, having only each other and their mother was unbearable. So they invited their muggleborn friend over to fill some of the silence.

Sitting around the fire, playing chess or reading, they all looked up hearing at a thump at the window.

"Daft bird." Ron grumbled, directing a bishop to take a pawn. Ignoring the rather common event, they were all startled when Ms. Weasley shrieked, then banging pots were heard.

"What? How? … It couldn't…. stupid boy… get Dumbledore." Completely oblivious to her surroundings and muttering to herself, Ms. Weasley passed by the bewildered children and shouted into the floo before vanishing to 'Hogwarts, Headmaster's office'.

"What caused that, d'you think?" Ron asked after a period of silence.

"Dunno, it might have been something in the mail. One moment." Ginny got up and crossed to the kitchen. Hermione looked up from her book as they waited for her to come back.

"Oh gods above." Ginny, ghostly pale, reappeared in the doorway clutching the paper.

"What? What is it? What's happened?" Hermione demanded, feeling lost. After finishing the article, Ginny handed over the newspaper to the other two, who both gasped at the headline. After reading through the rest, the trio looked at each other, speechless.

"W-w-well, ah, I guess that fame had finally gotten to his head." Ron stammered out, unsure of what to feel.

"You-FOUL-git! He-he's DEAD and that's what you have to say?" Hermione felt the need to lash out and started hitting Ron with a pillow. "Harry, our friend, is DEAD and it's all our FAULT! … It's- oh god- it's all our fault." Collapsing from her rage-fueled fit, Hermione started to sob into her previous weapon. Ginny, in shock, staggered over to the couch and sat next to Hermione.

"I didn't know." Ginny whispered, after repressing to urge to join Hermione in tears. "I didn't know where that money was coming from. I thought- no, I didn't think. I didn't think about it at all. I was just happy to get new things."

"Me neither. I know Dumbledore was here a lot before first year, and when he asked if I would be friends with Harry, I-I thought it was just, you know, adults saying random things for small talk. Oh Merlin, I'm gonna be sick." Ron did look a little green.

"He's gone. Our friend, who stuck with us through everything, who saved our lives countless time, is gone, because we were all too greedy and thoughtless and too BLIND to realize he needed help, needed us." Hermione spat out through her tears, heartbroken and guilty and blaming herself for her friend's fate, going back through all of her interactions with Harry to see what she could have changed, could have fixed or said something so that her friend could still be alive today. When she first found out about magic, she had been so sure that life would be a fairytale; that everything could be fixed with a wave of her wand. Even after she found out about the prejudice, the corruption, the slavery, she had been so sure that at least _she_ would be good, would keep her open mind and learn miracles. After meeting with the Headmaster every once and a while, and being gifted books and knowledge beyond her year, due to her _intelligence_ (And gods, didn't that make her sick now to think of that double meaning), she thought she was _helping_, that she was giving aid to her first friend, the one who saved her from mortal peril. He was so skinny and so often flinched at touch, that when she told that to the Headmaster, she thought he would help her new friend, and therefore she was helping him too.

Ron's mind was thinking of similar things, about how, since no one could beat him at chess in his House, why wouldn't he like a challenge, a change, in playing the Headmaster. He had been elated; _finally_, he was different, he was special. If the Headmaster ever asked about his friends, well, he was just making sure Ron was happy, right? He wasn't, hadn't betrayed his friend in that, please, because he knew what betrayal did to his friend, how much it hurt, after his foolishness in this last year, with the Tournament. He remembered sitting in their dorm after the first task where they had made up, and listening, horrified, to his friend talk about the Dursleys, and on w_hy exactly_ Ron was Harry's first friend, how he was the first friend Harry was _allowed_ to have. He could feel, gut-wrenchingly, how Harry must have felt when he learned that supposedly his friends weren't his friends but for money. Oh, **Merlin**, he must have been so alone.

Ginny sat there, staring at the oblivious fire, which was crackling merrily, ignorant of how her world had just shattered. She had always been smart, always quick-thinking; she had to have been to live with so many brothers, especially the twins. She could see, all too clearly now, how her mother was apart of all of this. Igniting and fueling an _obsession_ with the heroic Boy-Who-Lived throughout her childhood, and _Oh, look, Ronny's __good friends_ _with Harry Potter, maybe he'll come over for tea some day_.She could see all of this now, but it was all too late. She could never do anything to make up for misleading him and holding him to an inhuman standard, where he was impervious to anything (no matter how true that seemed), and pushing aside his human need for love, trust, companionship and comfort. So when he needed them the most, they brushed him off and wouldn't answer his increasingly desperate letters.

In a well-loved, precariously balanced house, in a homey room with a warm fire, three teens sat grieving their best, oldest and kindest friend, who had been so alone, so trapped, that he thought his only way out was the permanent way.

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AN: WOO! Finally Back! This seems like I might as well just due monthly updates because I'm too busy to focus on a weekly update. Anyway, another chapter is done!

From the beginning, I had this idea planned. I hate how people make the Trio so obviously malicious and evil when faced with things like death. Speaking from experience, if you know someone close to you that has committed suicide, you aren't thinking "Yay, now I can get his money", you're thinking "Oh God what did I do wrong?" These characters are TEENAGERS. They're not hardened criminals who've been planning someone's down fall since Elementary/Primary school, they're children who have been manipulated and subtly groomed into their roles. This is most likely their first personal encounter with death, one that they may be slightly guilty of causing: they're going to be a wreck. That was one of my major issues with canon, how Harry just pops back after killing two people (even though Tom wasn't fully a person, he still obviously felt pain and "died" due to Harry) without any type of therapy. Soldiers and the Police Force still have mandated therapy to deal with killing, and that's a side effect of their job, not a murderer at 11 years old. So I believe that this reaction from the friends is much more realistic than most other ideas.

Sorry if you don't agree, that's okay too! I love any feedback but I'm not going to beg for Reviews either. All I hope for is for you to enjoy my story!

P.S. If you couldn't tell this will probably be a very angst story, though a little less so at the end.


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